Mother
by MomentaryInjustice
Summary: An extension of one of my pieces from 50 Pieces. "The first officer was suddenly forced to remind himself that the young man before him was only seventeen. He was still a child who now faced the world completely parent-less."


**Title: **Mother

**A/N:**

This was written per request as an extension of a piece in my story _50 Pieces_. Pairings in this one-shot include: Implied Chekov/Sulu, and Chekov/Spock friendship. If you look deep enough, you could maybe find some Kirk/Spock... but its not intended. Don't overanalyze. :) Another thing, I don't write Russian well, so I hate to disappoint you but Chekov's accent will simply have to be imagined. If someone would like to take this and "Russian-ify" Chekov's speech, then by all means, please let me know. As always, reviews are appreciated. Enjoy!

* * *

It had been too long since the bridge had seen its youngest officer express anything resembling happiness. They were so used to his smile and chipper attitude that it felt as if a piece of their whole working body had suddenly come up missing. Now they were lost without it. "Sudden change in behavior," Spock commented to Kirk, "Is a sign of illness. Perhaps Doctor McCoy should be notified."

"The Ensign is grieving, Mr. Spock." Kirk said, his voice low. "Hell, it's only been two weeks since his mom died."

"The Ensign's mother recently passed away?" The Vulcan's eyebrows raised and Kirk gave his own perplexed look. "May I inquire as to how?"

"Really, Spock... I thought you knew. It was a house fire... completely unexpected. Kid nearly lost it when I told him. I would have sworn I told you."

"I apologize, Captain, I don't recall such conversation." Kirk waved his hand.

"You hardly listen to me anyway." He smiled. "No need to hide the fact. Perhaps you should talk to him, though."

"I fail to see where..."

Kirk cut him off, "Spock, you've both suffered a tragedy that no one else on this bridge can begin to imagine. It might do him good to hear how you handled the situation."

"I am Vulcan." Spock said by way of protest. "We do not handle situations such as this the same as humans."

"It won't hurt to talk to him."

"Captain, in all politeness, I am going to have to decline. I will not initiate conversation with the boy." Spock walked away. He assumed the conversation was over, and he could not see the wheels turning in Kirk's mind.

---

It was with some surprise on the next day that a voice floated from the door to the science lab Spock occupied. "Commander Spock? May I speak to you for a moment?" The Vulcan moved his eyes from the project before him to see Ensign Chekov standing before him. Spock's first thought, _Kirk_, was thrown about his brain as some sort of curse.

"You may, Ensign." He said with an almost unheard sigh, turning his eyes back to his own work. The Ensign moved only inches into the lab. Spock determined this was going to be a very long and annoying process.

"Thank you very much, sir." His hands were fluttering and he was breathing faster than normal. The boy was clearly nervous. Without looking up from the table Spock spoke,

"Please sit down..." Spock pointed at a stool on the other side of the lab table. Chekov obliged. "And speak, Ensign." Feeling very much like an obedient puppy, Chekov opened his mouth and then shut it again. He tried to recollect his thoughts.

"I think you know that my mother recently passed away." Spock's shoulders visibly tensed at the statement, Chekov hesitated. "I was just curious... as to..."

"You believe that since I have incurred a similar tragedy I may be able to guide you through your own. As a Vulcan," Spock said without looking up. "My ways of confronting my own mother's death are different than what yours will be." The same thing he had told Kirk...

"Oh." The word seemed to serve as Chekov's final, defeated statement. His defensive line appeared to have worked on the boy, or at least more than it had worked on Kirk. Spock observed the boy's defeated action, his empty and cold blue eyes. The first officer was suddenly forced to remind himself that the young man before him was only seventeen. He didn't even shave yet... He was still a child who now faced the world completely parentless. Something in his mind softened, and a few rocks were knocked off of Spock's stony wall of retreat.

"However," At the sound of his voice, Chekov froze. He had been in the middle of leaving. "I am aware that the least I could do is listen to your worries and provide you with the most logical rationalizations or answers I can acquire."

"If you are sure, Commander?" Chekov sat back down.

"I am."

The boy wasted no time jumping into what he wanted to say. He feared that Spock would yet again change his mind. "I am afraid I will forget her. I am sad because she is dead. I am angry... all at once. I am a well of feeling I cannot control. Sulu tried to make it better, to help me be happy again, but he doesn't know what to do. I get angry when people try to be sympathetic... because they do not know my loss." Spock still had not glanced from the small lab apparatus in front of him, but he nodded understandingly.

"Logically," His deed baritone began, "As long as you keep your mother in memory you will not forget her."

"But..." An exasperated sigh. "Thinking of her makes me sad... it makes me angry."

"As it should." The answer that passed from Spock's lips without thought or consideration surprised both men in the room. He lay down the tools in front of him and with a determined look met Chekov's eyes. "In such a situation, when someone is taken from us before we are ready for them to leave, sadness and anger are expected." He paused. "We must work past these negative emotions to find happiness yet again."

"It's hard." The child was back in that tone. Spock recognized the insecurity and loss present in that voice. He recognized it all to well.

"Indeed..." In comparison, his voice was almost comforting. "It will be hard to be happy, but we must allow ourselves joy in things." The Vulcan wondered when he began to say 'we' instead of 'you'. For how long had he been talking about the both of them, and not just the Ensign? _The whole conversation has been about the both of you_, an inner voice prompted. "But this is hard." He conceded.

Chekov's eyes shone a bright blue. He reached up and wiped two tears from his cheeks, which flamed red in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Commander." He apologized.

"It is illogical to apologize for an emotion you cannot control." It was comfort to the Ensign and, Spock realized, to the deep seeded pain that had developed in his own chest. "And I certainly do not ask you too." They were still looking at each other, but Spock turned quickly away, burned by the furious speed at which he had allowed sadness to overcome him. Chekov sat completely still, shocked by the large comfort he had found in the older man's words.

"Do you remember her? Your mother, I mean?" Chekov said after a while. Spock turned back around to face him. His face was a mask of passiveness.

"Daily." Spock confessed.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not physically." He responded, which caused Chekov to hit him with a very skeptical look. "I must admit that the first few days were the worst."

"Aye." Chekov agreed. "I did not want to eat... did not want to even move. Had it not been for my job, I would have stayed in my room forever."

Surprisingly Spock nodded, "Having to assume and retain command of the _Enterprise_ was equally difficult for me. And you can certainly remember how that ended for both myself and the Captain."

Though Chekov was not sure if that was an attempt at humor, he allowed himself a smile. "But I thought the hurt would leave... and yet it is still here..." The smile fell. "Whenever I think of her..."

"To me, the pain is a variable determined by the memory. If the memory is happy, then the pain is limited. If it is sad... sadness accompanies it." Chekov nodded, the same was true for him.

"How do I keep the sad memories at bay then, Commander?"

"It is inadvisable to do so." The Russian's face fell. "You remember I told you that we must allow ourselves to enjoy things, even if they bring about feelings of anger or sadness for the loss of our loved ones?" He nodded. "My mother enjoyed music." Spock swallowed before continuing. Chekov was listening with rapt attention. "She was particularly fond of the Vulcan lyre. Now, would it be logical to never play the instrument again, just because it reminds me of her?

"Much the same, would it be logical for me to play the music and be sad because I knew she enjoyed it and can no longer do so?" Chekov shook his head. "The only logical course of action is to continue playing the lyre, and allow it to remind me of the life she had, and not of the fact she is gone. If you are following..."

"It makes some sense, Sir." Chekov hesitated. "My mother liked to read."

Spock smirked only slightly. "And would it be logical for you to never pick up a book again because it reminded you of her?"

"No, Sir."

"Rather you should read every day... and remember that she loved it and it made her happy. In turn, that should make you happy." He paused. "Now, I am not saying, Ensign Chekov, that such action is easy. It takes a deliberate effort for me to control a negative feeling, such as anger or sadness, and replace it with a passive thought. I imagine it will take you some effort as well."

Minutes during which neither person spoke followed this statement. Finally, Chekov spoke. "My mother was a very kind woman."

"I would have thought no less." Spock had returned to his project. His nimble fingers danced around some piece of laboratory equipment, calibrating it properly. "She raised a good son, and a fine Starfleet officer."

Chekov practically beamed. He began talking for no reason about a memory of his mother. Spock listened with tempered responses. Quiet nods and slight acknowledgements floated from his mouth as he continued his own work and listened to the Ensign. "She always wanted to see me married. I used to tell her I was only seventeen My sister's are married, she would tell me, and they are both barely nineteen." He finished with a sigh. "I never got to tell her about Hikaru."

As if he suddenly realized _what _he had been rambling about to a senior officer, and the name that had slipped from his mouth, he blushed a violent red. Spock did not look up; Chekov was very thankful. "I'm sorry, Sir." He stuttered out. "I should have remembered..."

"Lieutenant Sulu..." Spock cut him off. "Is a fine man. Your mother would have been very happy for you, I would imagine... I would imagine it would be similar to how my mother was so enthralled with Lieutenant Uhura. I found her doting on the two of us to be quite illogical, but now... I find I miss it."

This was all said without looking up, but Chekov understood that Spock had divulged an equally incriminating secret in a sort of eye for an eye fashion. "If I may, Sir... what was your mother like?"

"She was an average human female." Spock said. After a moment he elaborated. "But she had an exceptionally kind heart... my father used to say she had a spirit of fire. The Vulcan women often looked down upon her, or they tried to keep her as an outcast... but she would not have it. She adopted nearly every aspect of my culture in order for things to be easier on my father and I. She was a woman of great sacrifice." He had stopped working yet again, and was lost in quiet memory. "When I was sick, she would keep vigil by my bed. When I was upset, she knew how to quell my fear without me admitting the emotion."

It had been so long since he had spoke of her that he found he could not stop. "When I refused admission to the Science Academy, she understood and accepted with little to no questions..." Somewhere within his reverie he remembered her words... _You shall always have a proud mother_. He paused and swallowed, trying to quell the sadness within. "She was an exceptional woman." He concluded.

Chekov had begun to cry. "I am very sorry..." He said softly. "You must hate me..."

"Such a prejudice is undeserved. I have no logical reason to feel negatively towards you." Spock was now looking at the boy with his eyebrows raised. He stepped out from behind the table and moved around the other side.

"I lost her signal." He said. "If I had been able to transport her back... then she would still be here... and she would still be alive..." The word's were spoken in a rush between soft sobs.

"Ensign." The Vulcan's sharp voice rose above the tears, but he could not quiet the boy. "Pavel." He said reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. "I do not hate you." Chekov met Spock's eyes. "I would appreciate it if you stopped crying, however. It is upsetting." A small smirk... "An attempt at humor." He clarified after a moment.

"Aye, Commander." The boy spent a moment trying to regain composure, Spock removed his hand. "I am sorry to be such a child in these matters, Sir."

"What you fail to realize is that you are still a child in many ways. As I said before, there is no need to apologize." Chekov nodded. "However, I must be returning to my work here, or else the Captain will not have the results he wants by dinner."

"Commander?"

"Yes, Ensign?"

"Possibly I could stay here... with you for a while longer? I promise I will not interrupt." Spock considered this for a moment. He looked at the teenager's tearstained face and bright blue eyes.

"That would be acceptable." He concluded. He went back to work, explaining certain aspects of the project out loud for Chekov's benefit. After approximately an hour Chekov's normally interested response was replaced with a quiet snore. The Ensign sat with his head in his arms, sleeping soundly. Spock had to suppress a small smile at the sight. It took him only moments to decide that it would be best not to wake him.

He picked up the lanky Russian with ease and carried him to the nearest turbo lift. After a few curious looks from the security officers riding with him, he stepped off into the hallway and located Chekov's quarters. Using the computer override he opened the door and made his way to the bedroom. Spock was secretly thankful that the room was almost identical to his own quarters and he didn't have to hunt around doors for the sleep area.

Once Chekov was safely on the bed, Spock walked out into the living room and found the com button. "Spock to bridge." He said loudly.

"Bridge here..." Uhura's voice floated over the line.

"Please send Lieutenant Sulu to Ensign Chekov's quarters, Lieutenant."

"Aye, Commander." The com clicked off.

Spock spent a few moments wandering around and observing before he heard the door override buzz.

"Pavel!" Sulu's voice was somewhat anxious as he called out for his young friend. "Where is he?" He sobered when he saw Spock in the room, walking stiffly and examining the messy quarters of Ensign Pavel.

"He is sleeping." Spock's response was cool and accented with the highest levels of professionalism.

"Is he okay?"

"Physically... yes." Spock picked up a photo frame on the counter and examined the photo within. Two women and their husbands, a very young Chekov, and an almost elderly looking woman in the center. His mother. "Mentally, he requires rest... and reassurance. He is still quite saddened over the loss of his mother."

"That's what he was talking to you about?" Sulu sounded almost incredulous. "Not to be rude, Commander, but I've been trying to get him to talk for weeks... why you?"

"You forget that we have both recently suffered the same tragedy. While my way of dealing with events is decidedly different... the pain is kindred." The Vulcan sat the photo frame down. Sulu mentally kicked himself.

"I'm sorry, Commander. I forgot..."

"That..." Spock said somewhat loudly. "Is a statement I have heard to much of today." Before Sulu could question he continued. "If you could, Lieutenant, please ensure that he is well rested and receives adequate nutrition before his next shift. It has been an emotionally exhausting day for him."

"Aye, Commander." Sulu said with a sympathetic nod. Spock made for the door but Sulu's voice called him back. "Spock... I want to thank you for talking to him. He's very dear to me; it breaks my heart to see him hurt. Yet you could get through to that pain and maybe make it right again." The helmsman gave a small smile.

Spock contemplated this for a moment. "I believe the phrase would be..." He smirked, "Anytime."

---

The next day on the bridge the air was a bit lighter. Chekov smiled genuinely for the first time in weeks. It was a vast improvement. Jim and Kirk exchanged a small glance as they heard the Russian laugh at something Sulu had whispered to him.

"It's great to see him smile." Kirk commented to his first officer as he stood behind the science station. "I told you it would be good for him if you both talked. Maybe..." Kirk speculated, his voice lowered in a stage whisper. "It was even good for the both of you."

"That would be a logical assessment, Captain."

"So should I start calling you the _Enterprise_'s head shrink?" The joke hung for a moment in the air. "We could move you down to the med-bay and you could spend your whole day with Bones..."

"Perhaps." He allowed the Captain a small turn at the corners of his mouth... a smile. As if on cue Bones entered the bridge cursing up a storm at something Kirk had or hadn't done procedurally that had brought some sort of havoc around the med-bay. Another glance was exchanged between Captain and First Officer.

"On second though, Mr. Spock, maybe it would be prudent for you to remain on the bridge." Kirk left the science station to meet the chief medical officer with his hands held up in surrender.

With a raise of an eyebrow Spock smirked again... "Indeed."


End file.
